Oh boy, I just realised that my last THREE posts have been about music and not boys, what is the world coming to? Damn. But fear not my dearest readers, I’m back with a post about ‘types’ and why they don’t actually work. At least not for me and not in real life.
My type? Short story. I always have the same type. Skinny, pale, shy, introvert, slightly ill-looking, music-obsessed, arty indie boy, who probably suffers from Aspergers Syndrome and who I most probably (actually 100%) scare the shit out of with my loud mouth and loud personality.
But hey what can you do, eh? We all try and we all fail. But then I had an epiphany. Well sort of. My type is the most incompatible type of guy for me. My type is the exact opposite of me. I mean maybe it’s a protection mechanism but ultimately my ‘type’ also seems to be my most unsuitable type. I always fancy the kind of guy who least fancies me. Then I thought, is it the challenge, is it the rejection? But maybe it’s neither of them; maybe it just means that I should judge less on first looks and more on second thoughts. Sorry, cheesy sentence alert!
Anyway, I digress, what this post is supposed to be about is the realisation that types are superficial bullshit and that in reality anybody who’s got a face and a personality can become my type. It’s about who you can have a laugh with and who you can tell all your boring life stories to whilst feeling comfortable rather than who makes you so nervous that can only sneakily look at them and blush straight away when they catch you.
Instant attraction is easy, it’s like a thunderstorm, but a thunderstorm brings with it a lot of tension and force. Real feelings grow out of understanding all the little flaws, which takes time and effort, but rewards with trust and ultimately trust is more important than ‘type’. Word.
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